American Culture · American Literature · Classic · Collection · Excerpt · Modernism · Passage · Poetry

Wallace Stevens

                           It was her voice that made   
The sky acutest at its vanishing.   
She measured to the hour its solitude.   
She was the single artificer of the world
In which she sang. And when she sang, the sea,   
Whatever self it had, became the self
That was her song, for she was the maker. Then we,   
As we beheld her striding there alone,
Knew that there never was a world for her   
Except the one she sang and, singing, made.

— Wallace Stevens, from “The Idea of Order At Key West,” Ideas of Order. (Knopf , January 1st 1936)

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